


Sunshine after Moonlight

by Stickballl



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Angst, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, One Shot Collection, Suicide Attempt, im surprised it took me this long to add angst since thats literally all this is, like super angst, mostly - Freeform, neil and andrew make guest appearances, probably gonna add some along the way
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-08
Updated: 2018-08-17
Packaged: 2019-04-19 22:51:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 18,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14247435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stickballl/pseuds/Stickballl
Summary: A work following Jean Moreau as he deals with Riko and Evermore and eventually finds some happiness :)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my first fic venture for aftg! It's kind of a series of one-shots with the loosest excuse for a plot ever.  
> I'll be adding warnings and characters as they come up, but for now, enjoy!!  
> Find me on [ tumblr ](https://stickballl.tumblr.com/)

Sunshine was the thing he missed the most. It’d been two years since he’d been shipped off, been sold to pay a stupid debt his father had amounted. For two years, he had been stuck underground, overcome by the suffocating black of Evermore and of Riko’s unrelenting presence at his and Kevin’s sides, of the sword hanging above his head, swaying ever so slightly, waiting for him to make even a single mistake. Reminders of the debt forced upon him and his own mortality surrounded him, were painted on his skin in the dark bruises covering his torso and legs, hidden below loose enough clothing that didn’t sting every time he moved. He saw it every time he looked in the mirror, in the crudely written “3” on his left cheekbone. He was slowly withering away in the expanse of Evermore, under Riko’s heavy palm pressing him to the mattress each night. He was resolved to keep going like that until his body finally gave out and he’d end it all.

He’d been in his briefs and a t shirt, a small razor pinched between his fingers, hovering over the warped skin of his upper thigh, when Kevin walked in, a tight smile on his lips. Jean quickly hid the razor in his hand, hissing as he accidently cut his palm. Kevin let the door close behind him and it wasn’t until he was only a foot in front of him that Jean noticed a distinct lack of Riko. Something must’ve flashed across his face because Kevin’s smile widened and he held up keys between them. Jean recognized them immediately by the raven pendant. They were Riko’s stadium keys, the same set he’d held over Jean’s face as his other hand trailed a knife from his chest to his naval, mocking Jean that he’d never get out, never get to see the sky again. His heart raced at the sight of them, panic and fear entwining in his veins. Kevin set his hand on Jean’s shoulder, stunting the spreading dread in its tracks. Jean’s eyes snapped to Kevin’s.

“The Master and Riko had to leave for the weekend. Some kind of family business, I didn’t pay attention, but I just bribed Trevor with enough booze to satisfy an army. We’re free to do whatever we want,” Kevin said. Jean could do nothing but stare at Kevin, mouth hanging slightly open in shock. Kevin laughed at his expression and jingled the keys. “Get dressed. We’re leaving in five.”

“We can’t,” Jean choked. Kevin stilled on his way to the door. He turned around, shoving the keys in his pocket. Jean’s heart was in his stomach, nausea crept up his throat. He’d just gotten stitches pulled the day before. He couldn’t imagine what horrors Riko would enforce if he found out. A deep bruise under his ribs pulsed with each flash of a new punishment. “Kevin, if he finds out-”

“He won’t,” Kevin interrupted, his tone of finality shocking. Jean repressed the urge to flinch at his clipped words. He set the razor behind him and closed his legs, hiding it among the sheets and praying Kevin didn’t notice. Kevin stepped in front of him, a fierce new determination deep in his green eyes. “Riko won’t know unless we tell him. I promise.”

Those words were poisonous in the Nest. Nothing could be a promise unless it was from Riko’s mouth and they usually entailed pain and blood and falling asleep to tears. No one else dared to make a promise, aware that they were always broken. Kevin was painfully aware that nothing good came from uttering those words, yet he said them anyway with such conviction that Jean’s gut tightened with hope.

Kevin’s hand hovered over a long bruise on Jean’s thigh from Riko’s racket. It was finally yellowing after over a week, but it still pulled every time he walked or sat. They both watched his hand with bated breath, Jean’s heart thundering in a funny rhythm, deciding between going a million beats a minute and stopping all together. His head whirled as he tried to sort through the thousands of feelings fluttering through his chest. This was dangerous, alarms blared through his mind. Relationships were forbidden in the Nest, especially for them. Jean has seen what the Master has done when he found two Ravens together. It’d taken days to finally wash the blood out of his clothes and weeks to get rid of the nightmares. Jean wasn’t interested in tempting fate anymore than he already had.

But the second Kevin’s hand touched his skin, any thought of stopping him flew from his mind.

“You need to get out of here, Jean,” Kevin whispered, flattening his hand against Jean’s skin. Jean’s breath stuttered, lodged in his throat, and something in his stomach curled, quick and hot and completely new. He was familiar with the physical feeling, the arousal pooling at the bottom of his stomach, but he’d never known this level of want. His body was paralyzed, caught between shoving him back and allowing the touch to linger. It was gone in a second though, and he felt ripped apart, more vulnerable than he’d ever been. Jean pushed farther back on his bed, systematically shutting himself down, layer by layer. Hope, anticipation, desire. Gone within seconds as he’d done so many times before. He was just bordering apathy when Kevin’s hand circled around his ankle. “Trust me, okay?”

Breathlessly, Jean nodded, ignoring the voice screaming in the back of his head that leaving would be his death. Kevin’s smile, uninhibited and blinding, silenced it immediately.

“I’ll meet you outside.”

* * *

Sunshine was beating down on his face, heat coloring his cheeks and relaxing the tension curled in his stomach. He lay on his back, limbs stretched in every direction. A rare smile played on his lips, small and almost imperceptible, but it was easy. Kevin sat up next to him, running his hands in the grass. His eyes sparkled with something Jean had never seen before. For the first time in years, Jean wasn’t looking over his shoulder for the next threat, didn’t have to worry about hiding his relief or joy from Riko. He was free, albeit only for a few hours, but god, did it feel good.

“I’m just saying, if Foles would pull his weight during practice instead of being a stubborn ass, they could increase their scoring average by at least three points,” Kevin complained, pulling out handfuls of grass and throwing them at Jean. He swatted Kevin’s hand away, but his smile widened. He huffed, the closest to a laugh he’s gotten in months.

“Foles is the stubborn one? Are you sure?” Jean asked. Kevin shoved his shoulder in jest, but immediately froze when Jean winced, pulling his arm tight against his chest. Kevin’s hands hovered over him, eyes wide with apologies. It took him a second to breathe and settle from the jarring pain. “I’m fine, Kevin. Don’t worry.”

Kevin fell back with a grunt, making faces at the sky. He settled into a scowl and slammed his fist into the ground. “This isn’t fucking fair,” Kevin muttered. Jean looked at him for a second, noticed for the first time the smudge of his 2 across his cheekbone, with matching marks on his hand. Riko would raise hell if he saw. Jean wouldn’t be surprised if Riko ended up carving the 2 into his skin himself.

But something about the sunshine on his face and the wind ruffling his shirt, he felt empowered, free like he hadn’t been in years. He reached up and rubbed his number, dragging the ink across his skin. Kevin watched him, eyes wide and lips spreading into a wider smile.

“We’ll get through this,” Jean said, although he didn’t quite believe himself. Kevin could, out of the two of them. He was afraid, but he could walk out once he was an adult. He could leave and never look back. He could get out and until that happened, Jean would stay, keep going as strong as he could.

Something caught Kevin’s gaze and Jean followed it. His shirt had ridden up, revealing a deep red bruise covering his hip bone, one Riko hadn’t given him. Kevin knew intimately about the torture Riko imposed on Jean, but he was blissfully unaware of the added torment of Riko sending other teammates to his room, giving them free reign to do whatever they wanted. Jean had cried out too loud, so he was struck with the first book Luke could reach. He’d bit holes in his cheeks to keep from crying. He swallowed the blood and forced a smiled when Luke asked how he felt afterwards. Jean had other marks littering his body, from knives, fists, rackets, mouths. The Ravens saw when he changed out, but he’d tried to keep as much as he could from Kevin.

“I’m sorry,” Kevin exhaled. He reached to touch it, but Jean caught his wrist. It was still fresh, too tender to touch and laced with memories Jean would rather forget. Instead, Jean gave into the voice of desire whispering in his ear and laced their fingers together slowly. Kevin didn’t jerk away or yell or do anything but let it happen. He watched their hands, a mixed expression of confusion and a flicker of something else in his eyes. When he saw the inside of Jean’s scarred wrist, though, it was replaced with anger, fiercer than Jean had ever seen. “He can’t do this to you. He can’t keep treating you like you’re nothing. You’re your own person and you’re- you’re everything and I can’t-”

Shutting Kevin up was never an easy thing. Once he started on something, a wrong call, a late classmate, a dropped pass, there was almost no way to stop him. Jean would usually nod along, pretend to listen until Kevin had ranted his heart out and settled back into himself. Even when Jean did speak up, his words fell on deaf ears.

So when Jean leaned forward, finally giving into what he’d wanted for months, and kissed Kevin, it was almost a miracle the boy stopped talking. It lasted only a couple seconds, a quick peck that left Jean reeling more than any other experience he had. Kevin stared at him, dumbfounded, speechless for the first time. His body was rigid, frozen in time, and Jean’s stomach plummeted. Everything he was afraid of happening, the fear unfurling in Kevin’s eyes, the sickening dread filling Jean until it replaced the blood in his veins, the unbearable silent rejection that pressed down on his chest with enough force to stop his breathing, all happened at once and left Jean feeling empty and completely bare. He dropped Kevin’s hand like it’d burned him and turned away as fast as he could, trying to ignore the sting of tears in his eyes. He made to get up, but Kevin’s hand caught the back of his shirt before he got to his feet.

They sat there like that for what felt like an eternity, each second peeling a new layer of his defenses. Slowly, he heard Kevin shift and his arms wrapped around Jean’s torso, hesitation bleeding through every movement. Jean held his breath, afraid that if he moved at all, he’d shatter the moment. Kevin pressed their bodies together, his hands soft enough not to aggravate any of the healing wounds on Jean’s chest, but he could still feel Kevin’s heartbeat thundering against his back. His lips brushed Jean’s shoulder and he finally remembered how to breathe. He laid a hand over Kevin’s interlocking their fingers.

“No one can know,” Kevin whispered, barely loud enough to be heard. Jean nodded, knowing what awaited them if anyone found out.

“I won’t tell if you don’t,” Jean responded, a nervous laugh pushed past his lips. He turned his head to look back at him, but Kevin was one step ahead of him. Their lips met, ferocious and starving, each grasping at each other until they were inseparable. Jean felt like he was flying, adrenaline pumping through his veins, making him dizzy and elated and with a hint of fear flickering in the back of his mind at the thought of falling. His worry was immediately forgotten when Kevin’s hands slipped into his hair. It was the first time anyone had touched him with such affection and tenderness. He shuddered, smiling into the kiss. Jean pulled back and peppered kisses over Kevin’s face, neck, anywhere he could reach. They stayed like that for a while, twined together until they were breathless and tired. Then they fell back and stared up at the sky, still connected by their hands. Their faces remained inches apart, kisses were traded sometimes instead of words, and Jean couldn’t have imagined a better escape from the Nest.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Riko is up to his usual shit. Jean has a realization.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pretty graphic torture in this chapter so be careful if that isn't your thing  
> Message me your thoughts on [ tumblr ](https://stickballl.tumblr.com/)  
> Enjoy <3

“How does that feel?” Riko asked inches above Jean’s face, one knife slipped under the skin on his arm, another with the flat of the blade pressed right under his eye. Jean knew not to squirm, not to give Riko another reason to hurt him. He’d already done enough wrong, tripped over his own feet at practice, fumbling the ball and costing Riko a shot. Kevin had saved it, scoring in seconds and only making Jean’s night worse. And yet the knives and Riko’s words weren’t the things tearing his resolve apart. It was the look in Kevin’s eyes after the goal blared red, the light that Riko had all but extinguished over the years. And the crushing realization that Jean would do anything to keep that look on Kevin’s face regardless of what it would cost him.

Kevin was sitting on his legs now with his back to Jean. His hands had a vice grip on Jean’s shins, a painful but grounding reminder of why he put up with this every day. He could do this, live with the cuts and bruises, purposely mess up, just so that he kept Riko’s eyes on him instead of Kevin.

“Answer me. Do you like it?” Riko asked. Jean swallowed his rage before he met Riko’s gaze.

“Yes,” he seethed. Something dark flashed behind Riko’s eyes. He leaned forward, his breath hot and heavy on Jean’s cheek, and placed his lips next to Jean’s ear.

“Why don’t I believe you?” he asked. Jean didn’t have enough time to respond. The knife under his eye slipped, slicing the skin down to his jaw. He couldn’t stop the scream this time as black danced across his vision and pain burned down his throat. His skin tore against the cuffs on his wrists and his legs bucked against Kevin’s weight. His movements jostled the knife in his arm, lodging it deeper. Riko’s laughs mixed with Jean’s screams, filling the air with a sickening melody that had become too popular in the Nest.

Riko let go of the knives, leaving them in place under Jean’s skin, and battered his bare stomach with endless punches. Jean grunted against them, biting the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood and switched cheeks. His world shrunk to Riko’s fists, the repetition of the blows, the guaranteed pain of each punch, the screams that ripped through the air, the cries for help that went completely ignored, the routine of practice, class, practice, pain. Interrupted by nothing short of an emergency. Jean coming home to Riko and Kevin sitting on his bed, a deadly smile on Riko’s face. There was nothing else.

The blows only stopped when Jean had to turn his head to the side and vomit onto the floor. Riko laughed again, hopping off the bed to look Jean in the eyes. The same sick, twisted smile that Riko had every night stared back at him. He could see Riko’s hand descending toward him in the corner of his vision, but he didn’t dare look away. He kept eye contact even as Riko threw the knives aside and pressed his thumb into the cut on Jean’s face. He writhed on his bed, crying until his voice gave out and his pleas were just over a strained whisper. Agony filled his entire being, curling his toes and tightening every muscle in his body. Red painted his vision, obscuring Riko’s face into a mess of melted flesh and blood. But his smile was blinding and unmistakable.

“Riko, please. Please stop,” Jean begged through his screams. In a second, he felt the almost overwhelming relief when Riko withdrew his thumb. With a sneer, he wiped the blood on Jean’s other cheek before rearing his fist back and striking him one more time in the chest. He was left breathless, fighting to regain his control. He could see nothing but Riko’s smile, hear nothing but his laugh, feel nothing but his hands roaming every inch of his body no matter how many times he begged and pleaded. The black of the room loomed over him, suffocated him, and he couldn’t see. He thrashed against the restraints on his wrists, kicked his legs until they were finally free, and prayed for even the smallest flicker of hope.

He couldn’t breathe anymore. Shadows hovered over him, hands clawing down his skin. He called for help, asked for relief for just a second, but nothing stopped. It was a replay of every night, every reprimand for the stupid mistakes he couldn’t help. Their claws skinned him, bled him, leaving him empty with nothing else left to give. They kept scraping, though, and Jean could do nothing but let them, resigned to whatever fate Riko and his monsters had designed for him.

“Jean, please listen to me,” one of them whispered, filtering through the rest. It took a couple seconds for Jean to recognize the French and immediately everything around him disappeared. His arms were freed and gently lowered to his sides. Kevin’s hands running gently through Jean’s hair replaced the memory of Riko pulling hundreds of strands out. His reassuring words drowned out the barked orders and laughed taunts. “Listen to my voice and nothing else. Jean, I-I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t,” he croaked, nails scraping his throat. He swallowed, but it only made it worse. He lifted his hand and brushed the back of his fingers on Kevin’s cheek. “This isn’t your fault. You didn’t do this, so you don’t get to apologize.”

Kevin nodded, threading his fingers through Jean’s. He held on tight, pressing light kisses over Jean’s fingers. “I know. Doesn’t mean I like it,” he snapped. His hands roamed Jean’s body, poking and prodding at each bruise until he seemed satisfied. Jean bit his lip to stifle his groans, afraid of adding to Kevin’s worries. Kevin returned to his face, fingers gingerly checking the slash on his cheek. He pressed a little too close to the cut and Jean jerked back with a hiss.

“I can still play, Kev,” Jean said. Kevin glared at him, but some of the tension in his shoulders relaxed. He brushed Jean’s hair back, lightly massaging his scalp. Jean closed his eyes and leaned into his touch. The light, calming touch drowned out the throbbing in his stomach and the horrible ache in his jaw.

“I don’t think anything is broken,” Kevin said. He leaned forward and kissed Jean’s forehead. “I’ll go find Liza and bring her here.”

Jean nodded and all too soon Kevin was gone, leaving Jean completely cold and alone with his nightmares. He tried to keep his mind occupied, searched the room for anything other than the all encompassing black surrounding him. His eyes started playing tricks on him, creating dancing shadows against the walls, and it wasn’t long until he started hearing the echoes of laughter and taunts. He pressed his eyes shut, ignoring the pain shooting through his cheek, and grit his teeth. He started counting in French, and when he went high enough, he switched to Japanese, then started listing every player in Class I Exy. He stopped after ten teams when he realized nothing was working.

Fear wrapped itself around Jean’s throat and threatened to squeeze until any sign of life was gone. He tried to call out for someone, for Kevin, but his voice failed him each time. Seconds turned into minutes turned into days, stretched by the pain lining every breath and the terror of what awaited him. He knew of countless days spent exactly like this one, with Riko towering over him with his smile sharp as his knives. Waking up the next day with dark bruises and injuries he fought to hide on the court. At least six more years of this routine, possibly more if the Master refused to let Jean sign to any other professional team than the one Riko signed.

Jean thought of his scarred wrists, of how three years before, he’d dreamed of a release of any kind from Riko’s control. Kevin had tried to convince him he didn’t need it anymore, that whatever he needed, he could get from playing, from the thrill of the game, of each smile he allowed himself, but running and tossing a ball around with a torn ACL or a dislocated hip did nothing other than remind him of what had happened the night before and what waited for him that night. He couldn’t find the same solace in exy as Kevin did. Jean found it in Kevin. In those smiles he’d get when he made an impossible play, in the way his eyes glinted whenever the Master awarded him a compliment, in the way he’d given himself to Jean, fully and uninhibited. He’d found something to keep him standing after endless blows. He’d stopped hurting himself because Kevin had asked, and Jean was quickly realizing there was nothing he wouldn’t give him.

He tried to sit up, hissed through the almost unbearable pain, and set himself against the wall, panting from the effort. He cradled his bloodied arm against his chest, careful to avoid any of the small cuts. His head throbbed painfully as he rested it back against the wall. He flexed his fingers, grimacing at the lack of strength. There was some kind of nerve damage and Jean could only pray that it was temporary and he could still play. Riko wouldn’t hesitate to kill him if he could no longer keep up with him and Kevin.

The door slammed open, jarring him from his thoughts. Liza walked in, a medical kit in her hands, a cool look of apathy on her face. She set her kit on the bed and set to work on his arm first. Kevin hung back in the doorway, face pinched in worry. His arms were crossed over his chest, fingers digging into his skin. Jean kept his eyes on him the whole time, trying to convey that he was fine, that he’d survived worse. Kevin didn’t look convinced. He kept his distance, though, until Liza finished on his chest and moved to the cut on his face. She began cleaning the blood from his face as Kevin sat next to him on the bed. His fingers brushed over Jean’s, nothing more than a quick, fleeting touch, as he settled and watched Liza work. Jean did his best to keep from wincing as she thread the stitches through his skin, clutching the edge of the mattress. Kevin pressed his hand against Jean’s back, fingers splayed between his shoulder blades. It wasn’t much, but Jean knew that was as much as Kevin could give, especially with Liza in front of them both. He leaned against the touch.  
Liza gave him quick instructions on injury care and the mandatory lecture of injury prevention she was sick of giving, just as much as Jean was of hearing it. They were both well aware there was nothing he could plausibly do to keep from getting sliced open. She left clean bandages on his dresser before leaving.

As the door closed, Kevin let his head fall on Jean’s shoulder. His hand trailed over Jean’s torso, just light enough for Jean to feel it without any pain. He breathed deeply and let his head rest on Kevin’s, slotting their fingers together. He brought their hands up to his lips.

“You need to go back to your room before Riko gets suspicious,” Jean muttered in French. Kevin shook his head. He kissed Jean’s shoulder, trailing up his neck to just under the new bandage on his cheek. Jean turned his head and pressed their foreheads together.  
“I can’t. Not yet,” Kevin insisted. He held Jean’s hand tighter. The extra pressure brought another wave of relief crashing over Jean. The calming effect Kevin had on Jean hadn’t lessened in the years they’d been together. It tethered him, kept him from falling too far into his thoughts. He’d pulled him back from the edge too many times, just as Jean had done for Kevin, but there was one key difference Jean tried his hardest not to focus on. Without Jean, Kevin would go on to be the player he was destined to be, rise to the top of international exy if he wanted to. Without Kevin, Jean would almost cease to exist. There was nothing to look forward to. Exy was tiresome. Riko saw him as nothing but a plaything. He had nothing except Kevin.

He’d never admit any of that to Kevin, never dare to say it out loud, but that didn’t make it any less real, any less startling.

“Go, Kev,” Jean said. Kevin nodded and kissed the corner of Jean’s mouth. It took all of Jean’s remaining strength to keep still and not wrap his arms around Kevin as he hopped off the bed. He walked slowly to the door, each step a painful pull in Jean’s heart. Kevin offered a pained smile before he disappeared and Jean was left alone again. He pushed himself onto the floor with a grunt and ripped his sheets off his bed. He threw them to the side, ignoring the squelch of the wet blood when it landed. He fell onto the bare mattress more than climbed onto it and pressed his face into his pillow. The room reeked of blood and vomit, but his exhaustion overpowered everything else. He closed his eyes and waited for his heart beat to settle back down. The last thing he saw was Riko’s smile as he’d shoved the knife under his skin.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Riko's a dick and Jean gets desperate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw for rape and suicide attempt. there's nothing too graphic but be careful! If you want to skip this, just message me on [tumblr](https://stickballl.tumblr.com/)  
> Enjoy <3

Chris rubbed the rough towel against Jean’s stomach as he wiped away the remnants of his fun. Jean stared at the ceiling and ignored the way Chris was eyeing him and the hungry curve of his lips, feeling utterly wrecked and impossible to put back together. He knew without checking that his wrists were bleeding, tearing open fresh wounds. He could barely feel anything anymore, save the desperate want to get out, in any way he could. Riko had started paying much more attention to him, ripping him apart from head to toe, night after night, sometimes inviting others like he did that night. It was the only consistent thing in his life, the one thing he could bet on without fail. Riko reminded him of it repeatedly, that he had nothing else left except Riko, taunting him with a knife to the throat.

Hot lips pressed to Jean’s throat and he forced the shudder away. He didn’t bother to try and smile when Chris pulled away, settling for a glare that he knew barely held any heat. He didn’t have enough fight left in him, resigned to be simply complacent. Chris’s fingers trailed over Jean’s stomach before he finally was out of his sight. He heard the door close, but instead of relief, he immediately felt the weight of someone’s eyes on him, saw a shadow filling the doorway, laughing to himself under his breath. Jean knew immediately it was Riko and his body seized in fear. He struggled to keep his hands steady and his breathing even.

Riko stepped up to the side of the bed, head cocked to the side and a knife twirled between his hands. His usual smile twisted into feigned concern as he cataloged each of the new marks that littered his neck and chest, pressing just hard enough that Jean has to fight to hide his wince. When he seemed satisfied, he tossed a thin blanket to cover Jean’s body, a surprising kindness that only set Jean’s heart racing faster. He eyed Riko nervously as he freed Jean’s wrists and aided them to his sides. Riko placed his hand on Jean’s scarred cheek, thumb pressing into Jean’s tattoo, fingers curling into the back of his neck. This pressure, the bite of his touch that made Jean arch his neck in an attempt to escape it, was familiar and more settling than the concern that was in Riko’s eyes moments before.

“Did you have your fun?” Riko asked, his face close enough that Jean felt his breath across his cheek. Jean didn’t say anything, clenching his jaw tight to keep from letting anything slip. “I was planning on having some fun myself, but someone is missing.”

Riko leans back and looks around the room, an obviously fake frown pulling on his lips. His hand left Jean’s cheek just to wrap around his throat. He places his face back next to Jean’s, squeezing his neck in a silent warning. “Where’s Kevin? I thought he’d be here,” Riko noted. When Jean opened his mouth to answer, Riko tightened his grip and cut him off. “It’s rhetorical, three. I know exactly where he is. You’ve met our starting backliner, Thea Muldani, right? I’ve heard our little Kev’s taken a liking to her.”

The tightness threading through his body threatened to stop his heart and trap his breath. A dull pain cracked through his chest, leaving burning scars behind, searing his nerves until they were numb. The thump of his heart became a foreign feeling, an alien lump in his chest that was doing more harm than good. He’d allowed himself to believe in something, dared to hope that he could keep the only light he’d found in the Nest. He knew there was always an end, but he’d been blinded by desire and despite their best efforts, it was finding it’s end. Kevin leaving him behind with not as much as a goodbye. Jean’s eyes blew open, but that was the only reaction he allowed himself to have.

Riko seemed to get the reaction he wanted, as his signature smile split his lips.

“It is sad he can’t be here with us to have as much fun as we will, but he’ll have his own when he returns to our room,” Riko said. Something glinted in Riko’s eye and Jean had to force himself not to look away. “You were just a way to pass time for Kevin. You should’ve heard the things he’d say about you, the criticism and complaints. I’m surprised he stuck around you for so long. I’d have thought he hated you. I’m still not convinced he doesn’t.”

“Shut up,” Jean growled. Riko barked a laugh and pressed down on Jean’s throat. His hands flew up to grab Riko’s wrist, but he remembered at the last second what had happened the last time he’d touched Riko. The long scar above his hip bone throbbed with the memory. Instead, he let his hands drop by his sides, gripping the sheets on his bed. Black spots started dancing at the corners of his vision and his hearing became muffled before Riko lifted his hand.

“You belong to me. Not Kevin, not even yourself. For the rest of your life, you will answer to me. You both thought you could go behind my back, but you forgot that I have eyes everywhere. Nothing gets past me, no matter how careful you think you’re being. You’re my property and no more,” Riko said, procuring a knife seemingly from nowhere. He pressed it under Jean’s chin. “It really was cute that you thought you deserved anything from him. You’re nothing. You’re the dirt beneath my shoe. You’ll never be on the same level as Kevin, Moreau. We all get what we deserve, and if I’m being honest, you’re getting much more.”

Jean kept his mouth shut, the muscles at his jaw cramping with the effort it took to keep his words in because ultimately, he agreed with Riko. Kevin was a dream he knew would never last, but he’d held out hope regardless.

Riko’s lips curled back as he laid the knife on Jean’s chest. He pat Jean’s shoulder. “Do with this what you will,” he said with a brevity Jean didn’t believe in a second. The room was dark enough that he didn’t see Riko leave, only heard the door close. The weight of the knife crushed his chest, burnt its outline into his skin, made his heart race with the first offer of freedom he’d ever been given. It wasn’t the kind of freedom he’d dreamed of, but almost anything had to be better than what he was living.

His fingers wrapped around the grip of the knife, slowly and painfully. He pressed the tip into his skin, just enough to pierce the skin. The smell of blood flooded his nose, choked him, forced his body to shake with panic. This was a chance he’d likely never have again. Before he could think, the blade drew a line down each of his arms, clattering to the floor with a shuddered gasp. His arms settled at his sides, blood dripping from each wound. His hands twitched with his heartbeat, terror influencing and echoing each movement.

It didn’t take long for him to feel like he was floating, barely tethered to his bed by the remnants of Riko’s torture. His head was lighter than it’d ever felt, whether it was because of the blood loss or the sickening relief, he wasn’t sure. He stared at one spot on the ceiling until his eyes hurt and his eyelids began drooping. At first, he fought it on instinct, all too aware of the fact that Riko wasn’t finished with him, rolling his head side to side to give him something to do, but he eventually stilled. Any care he had was draining with the blood. He couldn’t muster a feeling for Riko, exy, himself, Kevin. Nothing was keeping him there. No one would mourn his loss. He closed his eyes and ignored the way his body began to shake uncontrollably, and for once, welcomed the darkness surrounding him.

* * *

He woke up to white walls and fuzzy thoughts. His head pounded with his pulse, overwhelming pain causing him to squeeze his eyes tighter against the bright lights. He went to cover his eyes in an attempt to stop the light, but his hands were held in place by restraints. It almost startled a bitter laugh out of Jean. He was delivered from handcuffs to padded restraints, an absurd metaphor for his life. He pulled against them, his movements lacking any strength. He was exhausted, more so than he’d ever been despite Riko’s continued efforts. Opening his eyes felt like the hardest thing he’d ever done.

Kevin was curled up on a chair to his right, head buried in the crook of his elbow, breath deep and even. Riko stood behind him with his arms crossed and a hint of murder in his eyes. His eyes met Jean’s as a slow sneer split his face and he laid a hand next to Kevin’s head. He slapped Kevin’s cheek until he stirred from his sleep. He woke with a flinch and he immediately shied away from Riko. It took a couple seconds and blinks until he understood where they were, then his head whipped around to Jean, eyes wide and filled to the brim with untamed emotion. He moved to stand, but Riko gripped his shoulder tightly.

“You tried to damage my property, Moreau. I don’t like anyone touching my things,” Riko said, deathly calm. Jean kept his eyes on the thin blankets covering his legs. “I can’t let this go unpunished.”

“Riko,” Kevin warned. Riko pressed harder on Kevin’s shoulder, startling a wince out of him. Riko leaned forward and placed his lips a breath away from Kevin’s ear.

“Just because you like to go easy on him doesn’t mean I will. He tried to ruin us, Kev, tried to take one of my players. Anyone else would get the same,” Riko lied, shoving Kevin away in favor of marching toward Jean. His hand seized his face, fingers hard against his jaw, as he loomed over him. The manic look in his eyes was echoed in his smile, an unbridled joy at Jean’s misery that he planned on prolonging. Jean could barely hear him over the roar of his fear propelled pulse in his ears. “You were stupid enough to think you could get away, but it isn’t that easy. They’re letting you go tomorrow. I want you to go directly to your room. I’ll be waiting.”

Riko pressed Jean’s face into the pillow at a painful angle before he stormed out of the room. Jean struggled to catch his breath, a rush of adrenaline pumping through his veins. His hands balled into fists, fingernails digging into his skin. He stared at the white wall next to him until he felt steady enough to breathe without shuddering.

“Why the hell would you do it?” Kevin asked with a meek voice barely loud enough to be heard. Jean looked over to Kevin, too tired to put on any kind of reassuring smile. Kevin was curled in on himself, staring at the floor, pained, like he was the one who should be laying in a hospital bed. He didn’t look at Jean at all, but the tremor in his hands betrayed his worry.

“Riko gave me a knife then left. It seemed like an easy choice,” Jean said as if it was normal. To them, though, it was the most mundane response. This was low on a list of Jean’s worst injuries.

“That’s not an explanation. The Nest is hell, I get it. I know what it’s like to-”

“No, you don’t. You watch his beatings then leave when he tells you to, like the good follower that you are. You’ve seen the bruises and marks littering my thighs and hips, yet you’ve never seen Riko touch me below the waist. You see what he lets you see. You don’t know what I’ve had to endure to hold on for-” Jean swallowed the word, refusing to confess that his sole reason for living sat in front of him, playing the victim. He trained his eyes on the ceiling before letting out an unsteady breath. “I made my decision and I would make it again, but we both know I’ll never get the chance.”

He heard Kevin stand before he saw him in the corner of his vision. A hand found his and intertwined their fingers. Jean let his hand lie limp in Kevin’s grasp, resolutely not looking to him. His skin was on fire where Kevin was touching him, pulse pounding in his chest despite the fatigue coursing through his body. Kevin’s hand ran through his hair, gentle and soft, contradicting the hard lines of anger and confusion etched onto his face. He settled his hand against Jean’s cheek, turning his head just enough so that Jean had no choice but to look at him.

“I should have been there,” Kevin breathed and Jean smelled a hint of vodka on Kevin’s breath. He leaned into the touch, pressed his cheek against Kevin’s hand to prove he was still alive. Kevin’s hand tightened on Jean’s, careful to avoid the bandages. “He told me to make myself scarce and I should’ve known something wasn’t right. I shouldn’t have listened.”

“There’s nothing you could’ve done,” Jean said. Kevin shook his head, pushing away from the bed. He ran his hands through his hair and rubbed his eyes. For the first time, Jean saw the dark circles under his eyes, the tremor in his hands. Warmth spread through his chest as he raised an offering hand as high as he could. Kevin noticed immediately, ripping the restraints off and gripping Jean’s hand like a lifeline. Jean pulled him down until Kevin lay next to him, mere inches between them. They kept their hands tied together, knuckles almost white with the effort to hold on. Kevin closed his eyes and rested his forehead against Jean’s. His breath huffed against Jean’s skin, evening out with each passing second. Jean was content to watch and catalogue each freckle on Kevin’s skin.

“We’ll get out,” Kevin whispered after a long stretch of silence. Jean’s eyes snapped up to Kevin’s, heart stuttering in his chest. His hand twitched in surprise. Kevin let it go in favor of brushing his fingers over Jean’s cheekbone. “We’ll get out and as far from Riko as possible. We’ll play for the rest of our lives and actually be happy.”

Jean forced himself not to roll his eyes, settling on a glare. “You’re drunk,” he pointed out.

“I’m determined. We can go to my father or we could just run away. We could do whatever we want to without the fear of being struck because we spoke out of turn. We could be free, be together, be happy. I promise,” Kevin said, pressing a soft kiss to Jean’s cheek.

“Happy,” he repeated, a foreign word whose syllables hung heavily on Jean’s tongue. He repeated it over and over in his head, alternating between French, English, and Japanese, until it became nothing more than a jumble of sounds. His voice was stuck in his throat, choked off by an unfamiliar lump of tears. He nodded quickly, not trusting himself to speak, before leaning forward to kiss Kevin, hoping his feelings could seep through with every press of their lips.

An impossible amount of elation flowed through his veins, aided by the dizziness of blood loss. A small voice in the back of his mind reminded him that escaping was a hopeless endeavor, that the Moriyamas’ reach was vast and powerful. But the light in Kevin’s eyes and the tightness of his grip, the genuine smile on his lips that was so incredibly rare, made Jean sure he’d face Kengo himself to keep what they had.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little fluff at the banquet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Sorry for taking so long with this update. Midterms had me dying and now we're gearing toward finals so I'm just a ball of stress.  
> Anyway, this is my best attempt at fluff so try and enjoy it!  
> If you have any questions or requests, feel free to message me on [tumblr](https://stickballl.tumblr.com/)  
> Enjoy <3

His nerves felt like they’d been rubbed raw, decimated by the stares and expectations the tattoo on his cheekbone brought. In some stroke of luck, Riko had disbanded their formation in favor of sucking up to the ERC. Jean had shoved through the crowd, his lungs on fire and weights dragging his legs. He fell against the wall outside of the gym, clutching at his chest. He was suffocated by the stale air, the fake polite smiles, the feeling of Riko’s constant presence beside him.

Sweat started to bead at his neck, but the outside air began to settle him down. The peace in the air filtered into his veins and cooled the panic that coursed through his body. He looked up to the sky, mesmerized by the scattering of the stars. He could count on one hand the amount of times he’d been able to admire the sky without Riko’s overbearing presence beside him in the past five years. He’d memorized all the constellations and picked them out, fully settling back into himself.

“There you are,” a soft voice said beside him. Jean flinched instinctively before he recognized Kevin. He choked out a laugh, bracing himself on his knees. Kevin’s hands gripped Jean’s shoulders and massaged slow circles into his back. His tension leaked out with each passing second until he straightened and leaned into Kevin. Arms wrapped around his shoulders and Jean relaxed into him. “You looked like you were going to pass out then you disappeared. I’m glad I found you.”

“My knight in shining armor,” Jean muttered. A huff of laughter blew across Jean’s face. He shifted in Kevin’s arms to look at him. Pink colored his cheeks from the few glasses of champagne he’d had throughout the night. It loosened the smile he wore, for which Jean was infinitely grateful. He let his fingers trail over the blush, feeling a curl in his stomach at the way Kevin stared at him. “Here to rescue me from endless small talk.”

“And here I thought you enjoyed talking to untalented strangers sucking up to our team,” Kevin said, raising his eyebrows in feigned innocence. Jean forced a smile to his lips, but the thought of anyone wanting to be a part of their team sent nausea pummeling into his stomach.

“If only they knew,” Jean whispered. Kevin’s eyes softened and a frown tugged at his lips. he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the three on Jean’s cheekbone and another on the long scar on the other cheek. He kept their faces close, leaning his forehead against Jean’s.

“We do have the best defense in the division,” he said, mirth lining his smile. Jean tried to ignore the hitch in his breath, the butterflies in his stomach, ignore that even after years of this, Kevin still held this power over him. He smothered his feelings with a choked laugh.

“Now if only our offense could get its shit together,” Jean said, biting at Kevin’s jaw. A shiver rolled through his body and Jean did it again. He heard Kevin swear softly in his ear and his arms tightened around him. “Especially that Day asshole. I could out step him any day.”

“You wish,” Kevin said before he pressed his lips to Jean’s, his hands traveling over Jean’s back. Jean leaned against Kevin until he was pinned to the wall. Their lips clung to each other’s for what felt like an eternity, safe in their own separate world. Jean tugged on Kevin’s shirt until it came untucked and he slipped his hands underneath. A small moan passed through Kevin’s lips as Jean’s fingers trailed over his stomach. He paid special attention to the thin scars Riko had given him before Jean became his new plaything. He lightly dragged his fingernails down Kevin’s back. His arms tightened around Jean, a show of pleasure that split Jean’s lips into a smile.

“How bad do you think it’d be if we went back to the hotel room?” Kevin asked, his lips brushing against Jean’s ear as he spoke. Jean pressed his smile into Kevin’s shoulder. He let his lips drag up Kevin’s neck until his lips were right under Kevin’s ear.

“Be patient,” Jean whispered. He pulled away just enough to rest his forehead on Kevin’s. Both of their smiles were uninhibited, things of pure joy from the buzz hovering around them. They held onto each other, fingers tangling in shirts, for what felt like hours of bliss. Hours of being uninterrupted. Jean closed his eyes, grounding himself in the sound of Kevin breathing, the faint smell of his aftershave, the sound of his pulse resounding in his ears. He drew random patterns on Kevin’s back, the low hum in response warming Jean’s chest.

Kevin pulled back all too soon.

“Dance with me?” he asked, holding his hand out. Jean stared at it for a second, heart caught in his throat. He nodded silently as Kevin took his hand and placed one hand on his waist. They rocked back and forth in silence for a second before Kevin began humming some tune Jean couldn’t recognize. Kevin closed his eyes and tilted his head up toward the sky and Jean was struck by the honest beauty Kevin exuded. He was completely at peace in the moment, felt safe in Jean’s arms enough to surrender himself to Jean’s mercy, trusted him after going through so much. An odd sense spread through his chest, constricting his lungs until he couldn’t breathe. The words pulsed with his heart until they tumbled out of his lips.

“I love you,” he blurted, immediately clamping his lips shut and squeezing his eyes closed. He felt Kevin’s arms tighten around him and Jean braced himself for the lecture he was about to get. Physical relationships were fine, healthy even, but emotional attachments were forbidden. He started to step back, but Kevin didn’t let him go.

“I love you, too,” he whispered, his eyes glued on Jean’s. Relief bombarded Jean and he forced a weak laugh from his lips. He dropped his head onto Kevin’s shoulder, crushing their bodies together. Jean repeated it in every language he knew until his words became a jumbled mess.

Jean lifted his head until his lips found Kevin’s. They held onto each other like they were the answers to everything. Time dragged into years and flew by in seconds, tainted by years of torture, yet surrounded by a faint light of hope. They could never get away from The Nest, but maybe they could make it a little more bearable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments and kudos are always appreciated :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Infamous Hand Incident™

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some violence (obvi), but nothing too graphic imo you've read the series, you'll be fine. Mentions of sexual assault/rape but again nothing graphic. Hope you enjoy!

The first thing he smelled was blood when he entered the locker room. His entire body stiffened and his hands curled into fists inside his pockets. His shoulders were almost to his ears before he even entered the room, the tension beginning to build when Tetsuji had ordered him to the locker room.

Half the lights were off, an alternating pattern on the ceiling that did nothing to illuminate the room. Somewhere off in the corner, he could hear low, terse voices arguing with each other. Exasperation settled in his limbs. He thought they could have a single weekend without any kind of extra drama. He ran through a list of possibilities of which Ravens he’d have to clean up after, a job he detested, that fell to him because Riko and Kevin couldn’t be bothered to deal with any of their other teammates. The last time he’d had to pull Trevor off of Jason after a stupid comment about Jason’s footwork. Riko paid extra attention to the bruises he’d gotten for tearing them apart.

As he continued toward the voices, anxiety tangled in his stomach, a vice grip on his intestines twisting until he could barely keep walking. The vague string of sounds turned into angry Japanese and Jean’s blood turned cold. His body was stuck between turning around and pretending he didn’t hear Tetsuji’s order and sprinting to shove Riko back. He settled his body down enough to continue walking, footsteps heavier than before. He was barely able to stifle a scream when he rounded the corner. Riko had a fist in Kevin’s hair, pulling his head back into the lockers. Blood streamed from his nose, the skin under his eyes already darkening. Strange tears fell from his eyes and both hands were pressed to his chest, covered in more blood than was good. He twitched as Riko gave another tug and bile burned the back of Jean’s throat when he saw a flash of bone sticking out from Kevin’s hand.

“No,” Kevin choked out when he saw Jean. Riko’s head whipped around, following his gaze. The fierce rage that distorted his face smoothed out into a cool smile. Time seemed to slow under Riko’s glare, the twist of his lips nauseating. Riko tore away from Kevin and launched himself toward Jean before he even registered what was happening. His hand wrapped around Jean’s throat and another put the point of his knife at the corner of his eye. Despite that, Riko’s eyes were still glued on Kevin.

“Would this hurt more, Kev? Watching your bitch get hurt because of you?” Riko growled. Kevin made strangled noises of protest before Riko punched Jean, knocking him to the ground. The corner of his forehead caught the edge of an open locker. The skin tore as Jean grunted in pain. He pressed the back of his fist to his mouth, digging his teeth into the skin as a distraction. Riko gripped Jean’s tie with the knife twirling in his hand.

“Riko, please,” Kevin begged. Jean cut a glare his way.

“Shut up,” Jean ordered. Riko’s laughter cut sharp through the air.

“Moreau giving orders. That’s something I’ve never heard. Is that how you two work? Jean is in charge and Kevin follows like a good little dog?” Riko asked. Jean ground his teeth together to keep himself from making a stupid remark. Riko leaned forward and placed his lips next to Jean’s ear. He continued at the same volume, eyes flicking to Kevin to make sure he was still listening. “You should’ve told me you liked it that way. Maybe we could’ve tried it.”

“What?” Kevin’s voice sounded far away, almost silenced by the roar of blood in Jean’s ears. Riko leaned closer, lips brushing against his ear. Jean forced his shudder away.

“Did you not tell him about our fun? Or your fun with the other Ravens? Such a shame he’s finding out now,” Riko said, pressing a kiss just behind Jean’s ear. His hands spasmed at his sides in anger. He barely restrained himself from wrapping them around Riko’s neck and squeezing until he finally shut up. “It was probably for the best. We all know how jealous he can get. Never enough to be first.”

“Fuck off,” Kevin growled. He scrambled to his feet, squeezing his eyes shut once he stood. Jean moved to follow suit, but Riko’s foot stomped on his chest and pinned him to the floor. Riko stared at Kevin, waiting for him to continue with pure rage burning in his eyes. His lips turned up at the corners, a vindictive joy lined his features. “Leave him alone. Jean had nothing to do with it.”

Riko snorted, looking down at Jean with a fake frown. “The ERC thought little old Kev here was being held back. My uncle set up this little match to prove them all wrong. I won,” Riko said, his eyes darkening with each word. He placed more weight on the foot on Jean’s chest, stopping his breath with a painful stutter. He leaned further into it until Jean felt a pop followed by and explosion of agony traveling over his back and stomach, needles and knives sticking all over his skin. A silent howl curved his lips, giving way to a broken sob and a sharp gasp as Riko walked away and air flooded his lungs. He immediately clutched at his chest and rolled to his side, curling around himself. He heard Kevin and Riko’s voices distantly, his hearing and sight fuzzing in and out as his body adjusted to the influx of adrenaline and pain.

He was finally able to brace himself on his hands and knees, heaving a couple times before the nausea subsided. His hands curled into fists against the cold concrete. His body was shaking uncontrollably, wracking his body with tension he desperately wished away.

“Stop lying to me, Riko. If you’d won, we wouldn’t be here right now,” Jean growled. He turned his head in time to see Riko storm over, gripping the front of his jacket and hauling him to his knees. He shoved Jean into the lockers, teeth bared in a terrifying snarl. Jean hissed sharply at the pain but refused to scream.  
“You don’t know what you’re talking about, Moreau,” Riko warned, pressing harder against him. Despite the fire in Riko’s eyes and the sharp stab with each breath, Jean smiled, dangerous and calculating, driven by his own rage and desperation.

“Kevin let you win and that’s the only reason you’ve done any of this. Once you realize you’ll never be the best, maybe you can stop being such an insufferable asshole.” The pain was loosening his lips to a hazardous level, but Jean refused to regret a second of it. He would endure tortures beyond his imagining in the coming days, but the exhilaration he felt did nothing to discourage him.  
Riko’s fist reared back and struck Jean’s cheek bone, slamming the other side of his face into the locker behind him. Stars danced in his vision, dazing him for a few seconds before he forced his attention back to Riko.

“I should kill you for this,” he said, tightening his hold on Jean.

“Go ahead,” he challenged.

For a moment, consideration flashed behind Riko’s eyes, a brief strike of a homicidal hunger Jean had never seen before. His lips curled back, cold and deadly, more teeth than anything. He gripped Jean’s chin, fingers biting harshly into his skin. Jean stared, eyes unfocused and blurring repeatedly. He tried to blink away the blood that landed in his eyes. Riko slowly leaned toward his ear, lips dragging against his cheek. His breath blew hot against Jean’s ear, reminiscent of too many nights he’d like to forget. His stomach churned heavily.

“Maybe next time,” Riko whispered before shoving Jean aside. He caught himself, staring at the floor as he listened to Riko’s receding footsteps. He allowed himself a couple breaths before he pushed the pain away, looking up and focusing on Kevin, who looked to be panicking across the room.

“What did he do, Kevin?” Jean asked, ignoring the aching in his chest. Kevin’s chest heaved more than it should and for the first time, Jean got a full look at his hand. The blood obscured the details, but the stark white of bone caught his attention. Kevin’s fingers hung limp, mangled and Jean clutched his own hand subconsciously. Kevin stared at nothing in front of him, breath breaking with sobs, his right hand clamping down on his wrist. He stayed silent, giving no indication he even knew Jean was in the room. “Kevin,” he snapped.

“His foot. He wouldn’t stop until... until...” he muttered, eyes finally looking to Jean. His eyes were almost completely surrounded in bruised skin. Jean grit his teeth and forced himself to go over to Kevin. He ignored every pull and pang throughout his body, the pain would persist for days to come, but he knew he could still play with it, had played with worse injuries in the past. Kevin’s hand was mangled beyond anything Jean had ever seen.

“Let me see,” he ordered. Kevin offered his hand, averting his eyes from the mess of skin, bone, and blood. Jean gripped his wrist, fingers hovering over his hand. This was the pinnacle of Riko’s carnage, a thoughtless outburst that jeopardized what Riko held closest. His stomach twisted into thousands of knots. His heart thudded in his chest. He couldn’t see a way for this to end well.

“Jean,” Kevin gasped. Jean’s eyes snapped up to his. Fear hollowed his eyes, paled his skin, folded his features until he was almost unrecognizable.

“We need to get you to Hill,” Jean said, slipping a hand into Kevin’s hair. He brushed back the strands that fell into his face, dragging his nails softly against his scalp. Kevin squeezed his eyes shut, letting his head rest against Jean’s shoulder. His body shook with uncontrollable sobs. Jean gathered him in his arms, pressing them together hard enough that he hoped Kevin could feel his heartbeat. He’d never had to comfort anyone else, always on the receiving end of Kevin’s attempts at comfort, hands just stiff enough to be uncomfortable and stuttering every other word. Now, he was fumbling. Words died before they even touched his lips, hands shook with insecurity.

“I’m not going to be able to play anymore. He’s taken everything from me,” Kevin said. Jean pulled back, resting their foreheads together.

“You’ll be fine. We’ll figure something out,” Jean lied, taking Kevin’s face in his hands. A growing pit in Jean’s stomach warned him of the danger of hope, but Kevin nodded along with his words anyway, the beginnings of fight flickering in the back of his eyes. His good hand gripped Jean’s jacket and pulled them closer together. Jean’s rib screamed in pain, but he grit his teeth and tried to breathe through it. Kevin buried his face in Jean’s shoulder and they sat like that for far too long considering the blood slowly falling from Kevin’s hand.

Too soon, Tetsuji’s voice boomed through the locker room, calling for Jean. Kevin flinched in Jean’s arms then tightened his hold. Jean pressed a light kiss to Kevin’s temple before he began to extract himself. Once he was on his feet, Jean ran a hand through Kevin’s hair and attempted a smile.

His heart dropped further with each step he made. Tetsuji stared him down, cool apathy thinly veiling an unkept rage. Riko was a flurried of blind rage while Tetsuji always looked as if his cruelty was an inconvenience he was forced into. There were always cool strikes of his cane, a swiftly delivered back hand. Violence was a means to an end and an effective means at that. He wasn’t like his nephew; he took no joy in seeing them cower or beg. He despised it. He was cold and distant.

This was not a Tetsuji Jean had ever had to deal with before.

Jean stepped in front of Tetsuji and lowered his head. “Master.”

Tetsuji gripped Jean’s chin and forced him to look up. The rage in his eyes was reflected in the strength of his grip. Jean wanted to look anywhere but at Tetsuji, but he wasn’t given much of a choice. “You’re going to go back to your room and speak of this to no one. Understand?” he ordered. Jean nodded as much as he could. With a horrible sneer, Tetsuji shoved Jean against the wall, grinding his skull against the concrete. For a terrifying second, his vision went black and his world narrowed to the hand covering his face and the press of Tetsuji’s cane against his ribs. “If I hear a word about this from the other Ravens, you’ll be begging for Riko to take you off my hands.”

His tone flashed ice through Jean’s veins and the minute he was free, he set off as fast as he could down the hall. Tetsuji’s gaze fell heavily on Jean’s shoulders even when he turned to head to his room.  
A foreboding feeling settled on Jean’s chest. Injuries were a fickle thing, especially in such a contact heavy sport. In some cases, it was a coin toss on whether or not an injury would be a career ender. The way Kevin’s hand bent back and the bone that stuck through his skin left no doubt in Jean’s mind of what his future was. With fear in his veins, Jean knew there was nothing Kevin could possibly do.  
The fear followed him into his room, confronted him with a sneer and knives waiting for him. Riko strapped him down, tightening the cuffs until they bit painfully into his wrists. He played with his knives for countless hours, not satisfied with his carnage already. He didn’t stay for long, but Jean’s hands were left cuffed and wounds left untended. What little sleep he got was littered by nightmares.

* * *

Jean woke to a smile-less Riko and a knife above his heart. The obvious absence of another body in the room was nothing unusual, but the lack of fanfare, the intense heat behind his eyes, set off alarms in Jean’s head. The knife trailed mindless patterns over his chest as Riko stared right through Jean. The muscles in his jaw worked, a bead of sweat rolled down his forehead. His eyes were red and angry and Jean had never seen Riko so vulnerable, so broken. Overwhelming dread choked him. There was only one thing, one person, who could take Riko apart so efficiently.

Jean closed his eyes against the tears and bit his cheek until it bled. He screamed for hours after, begged for a release. He wasn’t sure if he wanted Riko to stop or to keep going until there was nothing left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd love to hear your thoughts and feelings! Tell me on tumblr!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time skip to Kengo's death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> little trigger warnings for panic attacks and violence.  
> i'm starting school again for the summer so updates might be sparse and inconsistent, but i'm going to finish this if this is that last thing i do! i'm always open to requests, so if you have any ideas, send them my way at stickballl  
> enjoy!

The night had gone by as a blur, event after indistinguishable event, culminating in an indecipherable mess that Jean would never be able to figure out. The last clear thing he could remember was standing by the goal when the Master stepped up to the court, face ashen but otherwise completely composed, and walked over to Riko. Whatever he said lit a fire in Riko Jean had never seen. The grip of his racquet had almost splintered under his fierce grip as he shouted for everyone to get off the court. The weight of his stare on Jean made sure he knew to stay put. It was only seconds after the last Raven was out of sight that Riko rushed forward and attacked.

Now, he was lying on the court, helmet thrown carelessly off to the side what felt like hours ago, at the full mercy of Riko’s racquet. Jean could no longer discern whether or not it was tears or blood running down his face. It was a safe guess to assume both. His voice had given out and now all that escaped were strangled whimpers. He could barely see from his swollen eyes, thundering painfully with each breath. His forearms were bruised beyond imagining from misguided attempts at protecting himself. His knee was engulfed in white hot pain and he could barely feel his foot. He was limp on the court floor, completely vulnerable to whatever Riko had planned.

He barely registered Riko’s racquet before he felt the impact spanning his left ear down to his cheek bone. He howled in pain, a resounding buzz filling his head as he felt repeated blows up and down his body. A high-pitched keel filled his ears and he could just make out Riko’s voice above the overwhelming sound.

Riko grabbed a handful of Jean’s hair, pulling him to his knees with one painful tug. His racquet fell to the ground as Riko’s other hand wrapped around Jean’s jaw. A knife appeared from thin air and pressed just below the inside corner of Jean’s eye. Riko shouted something, his voice muffled by the pain, before he sliced Jean’s cheek open, crisscrossing with the scar he’d received years ago, and continued a painful pattern down Jean’s chest. He saw Riko off to his left, lips moving in aggravated shouts. The constant ringing in his ears drowned out any attempts at getting Jean’s attention. In his frustration, Riko yanked at his hair, pulling patch after patch out, each time stopping to yell something new at Jean. Despite the crushing need he felt to close his eyes and slip away, the tugging fear of what Riko would do kept him alert enough to stay conscious. He faintly registered Riko shouting a slur of Japanese to someone out of Jean’s line of sight before he was shoved back to the ground, head bouncing off the wood.

His vision went black and the next thing he could remember was being dragged back to his room by his arms. The odd mix of a dull pain and numbness in his shoulder must have meant that while being carried, his handler pulled a little too hard and dislocated it. He wasn’t sure if he was moving his fingers, but he prayed with any ounce of faith left in him that there wasn’t any permanent nerve damage.  
They tossed him in his room, not bothering to help him into bed, and slammed the door shut behind them. The darkness overtook him and Jean felt it choking whatever life he still had. His body moved on its own, filtering through his drawers until he finally realized what was happening when he heard a soft voice whisper his name.

“Jean?” Renee murmured, voice dragged by sleep. A phone was pressed to his right ear, knuckles white at his grip. A feeling of relief crashed over him, pushing out a painful sob at the concern in her voice. It took him a couple tries before he was able to push the words out.

“I need help,” he whispered, and even then, his voice was barely enough to be heard. He heard some rustling on the other end and Renee’s breath quickened.

“What happened?”

“Kengo is dead,” he said, laughter bursting out unbidden from his lips. It was more of a wheeze than anything, but it warranted a sharp breath from Renee. When he calmed down enough to find his voice again, he said, “At least I think he is. Riko didn’t say much before…”

His voice trailed away, leaving the rest unsaid. He knew Renee would understand. She was well aware of what went on in the Nest, especially to property like Jean. He heard her breathing hitch on the other end, then a soft exhale. She was steadying herself, he realized, focusing every unwanted emotion into a line and executing them swiftly. He’d done it every day with Riko.

“I’m coming. Don’t move, Jean,” she ordered. Jean barked out another laugh.

“I don’t have much of a choice,” he remarked before the line went dead. Jean sighed and laid his unharmed cheek on the floor. He still clutched the phone in his hand, holding it above his heart. The aching in his bones and throbbing in his head seemed to dull a little bit as his eyes fluttered open and closed. He fought as hard as he could to retain consciousness, but ultimately, he gave up the fight and embraced the blissful sleep.

* * *

He woke to a devastating headache and a heavy air of nausea pressing down on him. He didn’t dare open his eyes, choosing instead to pretend to be asleep for as long as he could. He couldn’t remember anything of what happened the night before, couldn’t remember what he’d done to warrant such a punishment from Riko. He shifted each part of his body, bit by bit, cataloguing each injury the best he could, a sense of dread filling his chest when he could barely feel the fingers on his right hand. His eyes flew open to an almost blinding white room. He thrashed in the bed, suffocated by the thin blankets covering him. It took only seconds for the nausea to take him and he turned his head to the side just in time to vomit over the side of the bed. He braced himself weakly, just able to keep himself on the bed.

He was vaguely aware of someone gently pulling him back onto the bed, their hands embodying a tenderness he’d never been handled with before. Once he was settled, he shoved them away, knocking himself back into the wall. Stars appeared before him, distracting him temporarily from the pain. He blinked his vision clear to a concerned pair of warm eyes studying him. When his breathing slowed and his sight returned to normal, the girl in front of him smiled.

“How are you feeling, Jean?” she asked, voice soft and hesitant. The smile on her lips wasn’t malicious, filled with only worry, but there was something angry in her eyes that Jean simultaneously understood and feared.

“Where am I? What is going on?” Jean demanded. The girl’s smile turned to a frown and she reached for something behind her back. Jean flinched back violently, raising his arm to shield his face. His eyes stayed on the girl though, as she pulled a small black phone out. She kept her movements slow and measured, giving him enough time to predict each action. He let his arm drop on the blankets.

“You’re safe. You don’t have to worry,” she said. Her lips spread back into the small smile, causing an odd warmth to spread throughout his chest. He was used to a hot spike of fear tearing through his stomach and the burning in his lungs after being deprived of air for too long, but the comfort he felt by just a quirk of the lips was almost disorienting. Something tickled in the back of his mind.

“Renee,” he breathed, relief cooling the aching fire in his veins. She smiled, covering his hand with hers. She started to say something, but the door opening cut her off. Renee pulled away and let the Foxes nurse take her place. Jean scowled at her, shying away from her touch. She sighed and let her hands fall in her lap.

“I need to help you, Jean. I could only dress your wounds while you were unconscious and I need to make sure nothing is permanently damaged,” she pleaded, voice even and low. Jean glanced at Renee and only received an encouraging nod. “Renee will stay in the room and I’ll tell you what I’m about to do before I ever lay a hand on you.”

“Have some experience working with fuck ups?” Jean drawled sarcastically, shifting slowly onto his back. His response elicited a tight smile from Abby but nothing else. She pulled gloves on in the silence, each snap felt like a strike against him. “My right shoulder was dislocated. My nose is broken. Both of my forearms have fractures and I’m assuming my cheekbone does as well. Something is torn in my knee and with my luck, it’s the unhappy triad. How’d I do?”

“That’s my guess as well,” she whispered, the shine of tears beginning in her eyes. Jean sneered and averted his gaze, choosing the safety of her white walls instead. Her pity would do nothing for him. It was useless to dwell on things no one could help. He’d pitied himself for years before the realization that nothing was going to change hit.

“Years of practice,” he muttered and Abby flinched.

“I’d still like to examine you, make sure everything is fine, starting with the cuts and bruises along your torso. Is that alright?” Abby asked, completely still. Jean ground his agreement out through his teeth, knowing all too well how much easier it is to just play along. She reached for the blankets covering his chest and for the first time he noticed the dried blood on the bandages and the fabric. Dark bruises highlighted each cut as she began pulling dirtied gauze away. It wasn’t even close to the worst he’d had, but it still left a bitter taste in his mouth. He looked away from the crosshatching of scars across his torso, both healing and long healed. There was always a specific mix of rage and despair that shot through him whenever he added a mark to his body. He’d learned how to control his external reaction. Jury was still out on how to deal with the internal one.

Once Abby had assessed and redressed the cuts, she poked at his shoulder and forearms, frowning deeper with each bruise. Her fingers barely ghosted over them, yet pain radiated throughout his arms. She turned to Renee, whispering something Jean couldn’t hear, before she looked at him with wide, doughy eyes and a heartbroken smile on her face.

“The cut on your face required some stitches. I am going to check that now, okay?” Jean nodded, keeping his gaze stuck on the ceiling. She instructed him to turn toward her to give her a better view of his left cheek. He painstakingly shifted, shooting a glare at Abby each time she reached out to help. The gauze pulled at the cut as she took it out and Jean hissed through the pain. Abby muttered her apologies through a light stream of tears. He ignored her, thinking of anything other than her meaningless attempts at making any of this better. He settled deeper into the bed, pressing his face into his pillow. He calculated the amount of time before he could really play again. His grip was too weak, but that was his only concern. The cuts he could deal with. He’d cleaned blood out of uniforms before.  
A touch on his good shoulder shocked him out of his thoughts. He cursed and both women held their hands up in innocence.

“You weren’t answering my questions. Is everything alright?” Abby asked. Jean nodded and noticed the new gauze taped to his cheek. A familiar frown appeared on her lips. “Humor me for a second.”  
She pulled a phone out from one pocket and headphones from another. While she was configuring whatever plan was in her mind, Jean looked toward Renee for comfort or some idea of what Abby would do next. She just shrugged, that sweet smile still lighting up her face.

“Can you put this in your left ear?” Abby said, handing the earbud to him. He glared at her, but did it anyway, wincing as he pressed against the bruising. His gestured for her to continue. “Do you hear any music?”

Jean shook his head. Abby pressed something on her phone and looked at him expectantly.

“How about now?”

Jean shook his head again. He couldn’t hear any music or any noise at all, but he felt the vibrations in his ear. Immediately, his heart seized and his stomach dropped. He tore the headphones out, hyperventilating through clenched teeth. He tried to sit up, restrained by his sheets and the panic clawing at his throat. Pain blacked out his vision, trapped his breath in his chest, amplified the roaring of blood in his ears. He struck at anything forcing him down until hands wrapped around his forearms and he let out a sharp cry. He froze as fear threaded its way through each of his muscles, integrated itself into his core, mixed with the pain to make a toxic cocktail.

“Jean, it’s okay. It’s just me,” Renee’s voice filtered through. She pinned his arms to his chest, hands wrapped around his forearms. Her body covered his and left no room for him to move. “This isn’t the end of the world.”

“What if I can’t play?” Jean asked, voice hoarse and barely above a whisper. Renee’s eyes soften and she climbed off of him to sit on the edge of the mattress. She left her hand palm up in front of her, an offering Jean was desperate for. He gripped it like it was the only thing tethering him to his body. “They won’t take me back if I can’t play.”

“You’ll still be able to play, but Jean,” she turned his head so he was looking right at her, “I’m never letting you step foot in Edgar Allen again. Not as a Raven.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> poor Jean :(  
> forgot to mention that this fic is inspired by no peace by sam smith  
> comments and kudos are always appreciated!!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kevin makes an offer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no real warnings for this chapter. just some boys getting some aggression out  
> and why not visit me on tumblr  
> enjoy!!

The obnoxious, loud voices of the Foxes pierced into his relative peace. With the quiet ambience of Abby moving around the house, Jean’d almost convinced himself he wasn’t trapped in a hellhole by a ghost of his past. He rolled over to press his good ear into the pillow. It worked well enough, muffling the majority of the noise. He closed his eyes and tried to drift off into sleep.  
He was successful for about ten minutes before a soft knock sounded at his door. For a second, he debated just not answering and pretending to be asleep, but they knocked again, louder and more impatient. Jean groaned and sat up, calling to let whoever it was in.

Abby poked her head in with a nervous smile. “How are you feeling?” she asked in lieu of a hello. Jean just glared at her. She asked every day and his answer never changed. His answer would never change unless there was some serious divine intervention. “Someone is here to see you.”

Fear stuttered Jean’s heart. Abby pushed the door open and a guarded Kevin walked into the room. Jean gripped the sheets at his side and struggled to control his breath. Anger brewed in his stomach, boiling until it threatened to spill out in all the vile things he’d wanted to say the past year. Half of the time, he’d despised Kevin, but he couldn’t help the bit of him that blamed himself for not being enough. He’d been forced to get used to Riko belittling him and making him feel small; it hadn’t taken long for Jean to learn his place. But after so much time with Kevin, with so many feelings passed between them, he’d never thought he’d be so utterly destroyed by the person he loved.

Months of unexpressed feelings rose with bile in his throat, blaming him, condemning him. Even after each promise Kevin made to Jean about their future, their shared freedom, he’d still ran away with his tail between his legs just because he’d gotten one punishment. Kevin had watched what happened to Jean every day and still walked away.

And now he had the audacity to look sorry.

“Get out,” Jean ordered.

“Jean, I-”

“No. I have nothing to say to you. Get out,” Jean growled. Kevin bit his immediate retort back, instead balling his hands at his sides. There was a new calmness in his posture, one created by time away from the Nest, from Riko constantly breathing down his neck. It was one built on freedom, a dream he’d repeatedly promised Jean year after year, but failed spectacularly to deliver. There wasn’t a single thing Kevin could say to fix the broken parts of whatever relationship they’d had. He’d given up on Jean the day he left the Nest.

“Then you’ll just have to listen to me,” Kevin said in a rare bout of courage. Jean laughed loudly, spite and cynicism laced together in the hoarse sound that filled the room. Kevin took a step back, startled by the sharp outburst.

“You lost the right to say anything to me the day you left me behind without a second thought. You knew what he was going to do, you’d seen it, but you could only think of yourself. Just do us both a favor and let me go back before I make it worse,” Jean said. Kevin had been away for a year, but it’d take lifetimes to forget what they’d seen, what Jean had been forced to endure. The Moriyamas wouldn’t be lenient, especially after the stint Renee played to get him out. He’d most likely be walking into his own funeral when he returned to the Nest.

“You’re not going back,” Kevin warned, voice more chaotic than Jean had heard in years.

“Oh, if only it were that easy, Kev. We can’t all be like you and waltz away from all of our problems,” Jean drawled. He let his head hit the wall behind him, already exhausted from Kevin’s presence.

“I had to leave, Jean.”

“Bullshit, and you know it.”

“You saw what my hand looked like. It’s a miracle I’m still able to play,” Kevin argued, a hint of anger coloring his voice. Jean couldn’t bother to muster up a single care about Kevin’s one serious injury he’d sustained after almost a decade and a half with Riko.

“Boohoo, he broke your hand,” he mocked, his words seeping with a failed attempt at hiding his resentment. If a broken hand had been all he was forced to play with, Jean would’ve been ecstatic. “In three weeks, Josten endured ten times what you did without a single complaint. You’re weak and you always have been. A psychotic asshole hovering around you every second of the day doesn’t change that.”

Kevin stayed silent for a long time, unconsciously rubbing the scars running along the back of his left hand. Jean could remember all too well how it felt to have those hands touching him, running along the marred skin of Jean’s torso. It brought a sour taste in his mouth, pressed him farther into the hard wall at his back. He wanted to cut away those memories with a knife, force himself to forget anything having to do with Kevin Day.

“I’m not the only one Riko handicapped,” Kevin said, voice almost too low to hear. Jean’s blood turned to ice, his hands knotted in the fabric of the sheets.

“I don’t know what you mean,” he lied through clenched teeth. It brought a semblance of a smug smile onto Kevin’s face and Jean wanted nothing more than to slap it off. Kevin walked farther into the room, encroaching on Jean’s space and sat next to his feet on the bed. Jean physically restrained himself from kicking Kevin.

“Abby told me,” he said, tapping his finger against his left ear. Adrenaline surged through Jean as rage spiked in his stomach. He launched himself off of the bed, burying his hands in the material of Kevin’s sweater. The throbbing in his head was muffled by the sound of blood roaring in his ears. Kevin stayed still, refusing to fight, a hint of sympathy in his eyes, enraging Jean further. Jean pressed his forearms against Kevin’s chest, keeping him in place as much as holding himself on his feet. His knee felt hot and pulsed with his heartbeat.

“Shut up,” Jean growled, but his voice was too soft to pose any threat. Kevin hovered his hands over Jean’s shoulders and Jean immediately recognized his offer of help. He shook his head sharply, pressing him harder into the wall.

“If you admit you’re deaf in that ear now, they’ll release you of your contract,” Kevin insisted.

“I’m not like you, Kevin. They won’t just let me go. If I’m of no use to them, they’ll kill me,” he said. Sweat began dripping down his forehead, feeling like ice water against his burning skin. The arm draped across Kevin’s chest was more for Jean to keep his balance. His vision was fuzzing in and out, forcing his gaze to drop to the solid black of Kevin’s shirt to keep the nausea at bay. A voice shouted in the back of his head for him to listen to his body, but he shut it up, instead focusing on the fury searing his ribs into dust. “I wasn’t adopted. I was sold. I’m a loose end they’ll happily cut away if it preserves their legacy. I’m nothing.”

“Jean,” Kevin breathed. Regret and a tinge of tenderness wound together and drove straight through Jean’s ribs. It was reminiscent of a time when Jean saw his home in Kevin, saw safety, refuge, a sanctuary. When Riko held his attachment to Kevin over him, dragging knife after knife down his skin, laughing when Jean begged for reprieve. Panic rose and crashed over him, drowning him in painful memories and the reminder that he would never actually be free, despite what Kevin was trying to tell him. Riko owned him. There was nothing simpler in Jean’s life, nothing more constant. “I-”

“Don’t.” He shoved himself back, stumbling onto the bed with a huff. He struggled to catch his breath, hands braced on his knees. Kevin stayed completely still, but his gaze was piercing at Jean’s back. He wanted to scream for him to get out and leave him alone, his presence only increasing the memories, but his voice failed him.

He felt a hand gripping his shoulder and before he could think to react, Jean’s fist was flying, connecting with Kevin’s jaw. He couldn’t help the weight of guilt that settled in his stomach like a ten-pound dumbbell, or the fear that encroached on his entire being. His body went rigid the second after Kevin stumbled away from him, bringing both his hands into his lap and his gaze to the floor, locking him into place. He waited, dreading the coming lecture.

“Stay here until you’re released from Evermore. We won’t let anyone in without your permission,” Kevin urged. Jean’s eyes whipped to Kevin, wide and bewildered. He tried to cover up his astonishment with a scoff, but it was weak even to his own ears.

“Assuring, given that I’ve told you to leave repeatedly,” he mumbled. Kevin ignored him, choosing to kneel in front of him, enough distance between them that he could easily back away if Jean swung again. Like he’d have the strength to.

“After, it’s up to you. I’m sure we could pull some strings here,” Kevin paused, sensing the tension building in Jean’s shoulders, “or we could find some other team to take you. You don’t have to go back.”

All of the fight had left Jean’s body, replaced with the effort to steady his heart rate and slow his breathing. His body pulsed with pain, enough that Kevin’s form in front of him was still blurring. He’d tried and failed twice already to go back, being caught before he even reached the front door. He looked at Kevin, the honesty in his eyes twisting his gut into knots. Something he was extremely hesitant to name trust swelled in his chest before he ultimately nodded.

“You have until I’m healed to convinced me to stay,” Jean relented. Kevin almost collapsed with the relief, a wide smile spreading across his face. A smile Jean would rather die than admit that he missed. Kevin rocked back on his heels and stood, laughter rumbling in his chest. Irritation spiked through Jean’s torso, angry that he’d given Kevin yet another thing he wanted. He glared up, effectively stopping any celebration Kevin was having. “And Day, I doubt you’ll succeed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so as I said, updates are going to be super sporadic since i just started my senior year of college and life if hectic. would you guys rather i not post until i get it finished and then have a consistent updating schedule or keep doing things the way ive been doing?  
> as always, comments and kudos are appreciated and lift this stressed mt students heart!!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kevin makes an offer pt 2 feat. a Special Guest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and now we get into the transition between Jean's Before and After  
> there aren't any warnings for this but let me know if you think differently!  
> Enjoy!!

Muted sunlight shone through the slits of Abby’s blinds, landing softly over Jean’s body, warmth barely seeping through his clothes. He lay sprawled across the bed, pain free for the first time in weeks. The brace on his knee dug into his thigh, but that slight irritation felt like nothing compared to the rest of his life. One hand rested behind his head, playing idly with the beanie he’d worn to cover the missing patches of hair. The other tugged endlessly at the hem of his sleeve.

He’d gotten two texts from Kevin, one about the Foxes impossible win against the Trojans the night before, to which Jean scoffed, shocked at how far the Trojans have fallen. He’d avoided watching the game, hiding himself in his makeshift room, trying as hard as he could to ignore the itch under his skin for a racquet. The second had been cryptic, informing Jean that he was bringing a guest and not to worry. Kevin must have known that the half-ass assurance tacked to the end of the text would do nothing. The only thing keeping him from diving off the edge was that he knew Minyard would never let Riko or the Master near Kevin without weapons and fists flying.

It’d been almost an hour since the text when Jean heard the door open and voices filled the previously silent house. His heartrate skyrocketed , fingers dug into the back of his head. With Neil’s deal with Ichirou, Jean knew he wasn’t going back to the Nest, but that still left many possibilities Jean would rather avoid.

Someone knocked only a second before they walked into the room. Jean kept his eyes trained to the ceiling, drumming an erratic rhythm on his stomach. He could feel Kevin looking at him, his irritation growing with each passing second, and Jean ignored his presence only to feed that ire. Kevin only lasted a couple seconds before he cleared his throat in a desperate attempt for attention.

“Here to make your final plea?” Jean asked in French, letting the incessant tapping settle on his stomach.

“We have a guest here. Try a different language,” Kevin barked.

“Does this work for you?” he said, this time in Japanese, with a bitter smile spreading his lips. He could hear Kevin working himself up from across the room, preparing for some long lecture about how he needs to respect other people and all the crap he’d tried to drill into his head in the Nest. Jean slid his glare to Kevin, stopping the words about to spill from his mouth. His eye jolted with a surge of pain at the movement. He waited a moment before he looked over to the guest Kevin had forced upon him.

He immediately recognized the man next to Kevin, a too bright smile surrounded by dark skin, curly hair, barely tied away from his face, and piercing eyes taking in every inch of Jean’s body. Jean grit his teeth against the aching that seized his muscles. He forced himself to sit up and face Kevin.

“This is your idea to convince me? Jeremy Knox? Pass me off to a subpar team that couldn’t get their shit together enough to beat the worst team in Class I exy,” Jean growled, returning to French. His hands balled in the sheets at his sides, failing to hold his anger back. “Is that really what you think of me?”

“It’s as far away from the Nest as I could get,” Kevin said, folding his arms over his chest. His eyes narrowed and he settled into the Raven he used to be. “They’ve consistently been in the top three for the past decade. You’ll be safe in California and the only time you’ll have to play against the Ravens is championships. If you have a better idea, I’d love to hear it.” After a beat of silence, Kevin ran a hand through his hair, his posturing melting away to tiredness. “I’m going to let Jeremy hassle you since we both know you’ll never listen to me.”

Jean almost laughed. “That’s the first time you’ve been right,” he said. Kevin paused, his eyes shifting between Jean and Jeremy. The weight of his stare burrowed under his skin. He allowed it for a few more seconds before he raised his hand and waved him off. Kevin grunted then finally left the room. When the door closed, Jean slid his gaze to Jeremy. “I assume you have a whole speech planned.”  
“I do actually. But it doesn’t seem like it’ll work,” Jeremy said, laughing under his breath. Jean catalogued everything he could about Jeremy, the twitching in his fingers, the hunch of his shoulders as if he was actively trying to take up as little space as possible, the ease that left his smile the second Kevin walked out of the room. A million clues added up and screamed how much Jeremy would rather be anywhere but in this room. “Look, I think this transfer is a good idea and I know I speak for the entire team when I say that we’re excited to have you join us.”

“That’s all you have? A generic argument that took you two seconds to come up with?” Jean scoffed.

“I know this transfer isn’t exactly what you had in mind. From what Kevin’s told me-”

“What did he tell you?” Jean growled. Jeremy paled and immediately, Jean didn’t like what he was about to say. Sometimes, Kevin didn’t know when to shut up, when to say the right thing, and when he crossed a line.

“All he said was that you needed this transfer. He stressed a lot about how important it was, but he also said you’d be against it,” Jeremy said. He sighed and ran his hands over his face. “Look, I’m not leaving until you say yes.”

“Then I hope you like South Carolina.”

Jeremy shook his head with a bitter smile. “I’ll give you some time to think about it, but I’ll be back later. Abby was kind enough to invite me to dinner.”

* * *

Jeremy came back that evening and the next day with endless conversation. Jean wasn’t sure if his plan was to actually convince Jean to go to LA or to annoy him into submission. After the past hour, the latter seemed extremely likely. He’d gone over Trojan stats for the past ten years that Jean had already memorized. Then he’d moved on to recalling every detail of the current Trojans’ lives. Jean had tried to block him out, tried to focus on literally anything else, but Jeremy’s presence was too exuberant to ignore. He sat at the end of Jean’s bed, gesturing animatedly with an absurd smile on his face. More than once, Jean had thought of kicking him off the bed. If only the brace on his leg would let him.

Finally, he seemed to tire and his voice petered out. Jean looked at him startled. He sat up, readjusting himself on the bed.

“I know your time with the Ravens wasn’t the best. I don’t know the details, but given the condition you’re in, I can guess enough. I really, truly believe this is the best decision for you and for my team. You’re the best backliner in the NCAA and our team could use a nice kick in the ass.” Jeremy huffed and ran a hand through his hair. He looked at Jean with an open, exhausted smile. “I have a flight back to LA in a couple hours and I really would like to add you to our roster. But it’s up to you. Whatever you decide is completely fine.”

Jean took a moment to look Jeremy over from his smile to the ridiculous red of his running shoes. There didn’t seem to be a single thing that screamed danger, but Jean had seen Riko in front of others. The charming smile and easy posture did nothing to diffuse the tightness in his chest. But there was a note of sincerity in his voice that he’d never found in Riko.

That was enough to sway his decision. If Neil had been telling the truth and Ichirou really had no preference of where he played, why not take any chance to get far away from Riko and Kevin and the place that turned his life into a literal hell?

“I’ll be healed enough at the start of summer practices,” Jean said softly. His words wiped Jeremy’s smile away completely, replaced by a pure look of shock.

“You’re serious?” Jeremy asked. Jean glared.

“Don’t make me regret this,” he droned. Jeremy’s blinding smile returned in full force. He held a hand out and Jean forced himself to take it despite the unease slithering under his skin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> soon we'll be meeting the trojans! I really had trouble with this chapter and i'm still not entirely happy with it so i might rewrite it  
> i have the next bit ready so the next update might come soon  
> follow me or message me your headcanons and requests on tumblr at stickballl  
> also let me know if you see any typos or errors!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Riko finally does something right and Jean and Kevin deal with it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is mostly self indulgent, but i feel like they deserved a nice send off kind of thing  
> there shouldn't be any warnings, but let me know if i missed anything  
> enjoy!!

Renee was the first one to tell him. His phone still laid unlocked on his chest, the text message clear as day yet he could barely make any sense of it. The alarm bells that rang in his head mixed with the cool relief that pushed a silent trail of tears down his cheeks. He couldn’t look at his phone anymore, scared another glance would make this all a dream. He clutched the fabric of the t-shirt he wore until he was sure it would tear. The words echoed endlessly in his mind.

_riko committed suicide. we’re on our way back. call me if you need me_

Jean wasn’t entirely sure what he needed. He needed peace, something that once seemed unattainable. He needed someone to filter the raw emotions that flooded through him. He needed to feel just an ounce of normality return to his life, but this was the last straw to show that nothing was returning to normal. He needed the last eight years of his life back. He needed to never have meet Riko Moriyama, Tetsuji, Kevin.

Kevin.

His hands flew to his phone, dialing before he had a chance to rethink it. His heart beat irregularly fast, dizzying him with panic. Each ring brought a new ounce of anxiety until he heard the answering machine. He dialed again only to get the same result. He threw his phone at the wall as his tears turned into sobs.

He wasn’t sure what he was mourning. It certainly wasn’t for Riko. If anything, Jean wished he could’ve been the one to kill him. Maybe he’s mourning lost time, or the happiness he’d been forced to sacrifice, the relationships torn apart by Riko’s touch. He curled into himself, focusing only on the fabric of his jeans, and he counted as high as he could in each language he knew. His breath steadied slightly by the time he heard the front door open. He clutched at his head, trying to contain his panic. They’d leave him alone, he was sure of it. None of them knew how to act around him.

The door slammed against the wall. Jean flinched but refused to look. He wanted to be alone to process why he felt like a part of him had been ripped away.

“Renee, I don’t-”

“Jean,” a deep voice exhaled. Against all odds, the tension in Jean’s chest relaxed and he sunk almost boneless into the mattress. He pushed a breath out before he rolled over. Without prompting, Kevin handed him a glass of something alcoholic than Jean threw back immediately. He grimaced at the burn, but he preferred the physical distraction. Kevin refilled the glass and handed it back to Jean, repeating the action until Jean shook his head. The smell of vodka radiated off of Kevin and bags hung from under his eyes. Jean’s hand darted out before he could think and traced the dark skin. Kevin closed his eyes, furrowed his brow like he was in physical pain. His voice came out hoarse when he finally spoke, “I just wanted to make sure you’re alright.”

He stood, but Jean grabbed his wrist. Self-hatred and a foreign sense of desire curled in his stomach. The same war was being fought in Kevin’s eyes. Jean was all too aware of the alcohol that blurred his vision and that he wasn’t thinking clearly, but all he wanted in that moment was some semblance of what he’d known for the majority of his life. Kevin was the closest he could get.

“Reste,” Jean whispered. Kevin jumped under his hand, but he didn’t move away. Jean pulled ever so slightly and Kevin turned to face him. “S’il te plait.”

Kevin fell onto the bed, sitting at the edge and placing his head in his hands. He helped Jean sit up, his hands lingering a little too long. Jean leaned into each touch, craving something other than the solitary confinement he’d been forced into.

“I called you,” Jean said, yearning to fill the awkward silence. Kevin shook his head, unable to look directly at Jean. “After Renee told me, I called you and you didn’t answer.”

“Coach took my phone and turned it off when the news got out. He didn’t want me to do anything stupid,” Kevin said. The chuckle that followed was devoid of any happiness and it twisted something in Jean’s chest. “Coach. Dad. Sperm donor. Whatever the fuck I should call him.”

Jean stayed silent, not trusting himself to speak. He wasn’t sure what would come spilling out, whether it was a hateful speech about how much Riko deserved worse than what he got or a eulogy honestly mourning the person who’d stolen his life from him.

“He’s gone,” Kevin gasped, tears fresh in his eyes. He looked like he’d been dragged through hell, face fallen farther than Jean had ever seen it. His hands had wreaked havoc on his hair, pushing it back ten times too many. Jean had watched the championship game, felt a flutter of vindication when the Foxes won, when Minyard shattered Riko’s wrist. He’d seen the blinding smile Kevin had when he’d scored that last goal. The few hours of travel had decimated him, aged him what looked like years.

“Good riddance,” Jean growled, but his tone fell flat. He felt hollowed out, replaced with the buzz of the alcohol. Kevin barked another laugh.

“I know I shouldn’t feel like… like I’ll miss him, like I loved him, but I can’t fucking help it. Logically, I know that we’re all better for it, but I-” He cuts off with a gasp followed by a broken sob Jean would never have attributed to him. Kevin was all bravado and confident smiles. He’d never heard a sound so stripped of every bit of happiness in someone’s life. His hand shot to Kevin’s and they both held on for dear life.

“I know,” was all he could spit out, for fear of his own tears falling. Their grief made no sense. If anyone else caught them sobbing for Riko, their disgust would writhe under Jean’s skin until self-loathing consumed him. He had enough of that on his own.

“I’ve missed you,” Kevin said, his words slurring together. Something ached in Jean’s chest at Kevin’s admission. He rubbed his thumb across the back of Kevin’s hand. It astounded him with how familiar the action was even after a year of hatred and betrayal. With his free hand, Jean wiped away the track of tears falling down Kevin’s cheeks. “I’m so sorry I left you. I was terrified and I wasn’t thinking about anyone but myself.”

“Kev, don’t,” Jean warned.

“No, I need to say this. Riko he- he terrorized us both, but I was a coward. I should’ve-” Jean slapped his hand over Kevin’s mouth. His eyes widened until Jean was sure they’d fall out. Color painted the tops of Kevin’s cheeks, darker than his usual drunk flush. His lips moved under Jean’s hand, the vibrations of his speech tickling his hands. Kevin fumbled a couple times before he successfully freed his mouth. “Kiss me.”

“Kev,” Jean breathed. Kevin’s lips quirked up, a mix between sadness and hopelessness that Jean couldn’t resist. He felt himself leaning forward, his eyes glued on Kevin’s mouth. His hand knotted in Kevin’s shirt, teetering on the edge of making what he knew was a huge mistake.

“Please,” Kevin whispered against Jean’s lips. He kissed Jean, a chaste peck that sent his heart racing. They continued at a slow pace, reintroducing themselves to each other. They wrapped around each other, laid back on the bed. Legs slotted between legs, hands groped hungrily under clothes. It was routine at that point; Jean threaded his fingers through Kevin’s hair, pulling gently to expose the pulse point that drove Kevin crazy. Kevin’s hands ran over Jean’s thighs, teasing him with light fingers trailing all over his body. Jean melted into the touch, drank in every moment he got with Kevin.

Jean ended up on his back with Kevin hovering over him. He froze and just let himself live in the moment. No worries about the Moriyamas or the upcoming season or what his recovery would mean for his deal. He only focused on the green eyes staring at him like he was some kind of gift, the spattering of freckles over Kevin’s nose, the lips that knew how to destroy him within seconds. His fingers trailed over Kevin’s cheekbones and down his throat, cataloguing the feel of the person he’d loved most in the world.

He _had loved._ The truth stiffened his entire body. Not _he loved._ The _had_ snuck its way in there over the last year. The forming anxiety in his stomach eased in a way he’d never thought was possible.

He pulled Kevin down for one last kiss, a note of sorrow and finality passing between them.

Kevin settled on top of him, head tucked underneath Jean’s chin. Their arms wrapped around each other, crushing their bodies together, fusing them. Jean had one hand around Kevin’s waist and the other buried in his hair. He felt the tears fall against his neck, the shaking as Kevin sobbed. A voice told him he should be doing to same, mourning one of the greatest things to happen to exy, sobbing until his body ran dry. He’d have mustered up the correct emotion if it had been anyone other than Kevin who came into his room. But he only felt empty, broken into a million pieces.

Why did he have to appease Riko, do everything he asked for no matter the personal cost to Jean, if the only thing he’d gotten in return was pain and a sobbing mess on his chest? He’d kept himself alive with visions of the future, of Kevin by his side, of Riko finally being satisfied, of Jean possibly being happy. What was the point if Jean wasn’t even there to see Riko finally get what he deserved?

Hours passed in a haze until the door slamming against the wall startled them both.

“Kevin.”

Minyard stood in the doorway, arms crossed and face as blank as ever. Kevin sighed against Jean’s neck in annoyance, but he couldn’t hide the way the tension seeped out of his body. He pushed himself up and stared down at Jean, a war of emotions fighting on his face. He settled for leaning in and pressing one finally, lingering kiss to Jean’s lips, with a muttered “I’m sorry” as they pulled apart. He watched Kevin leave and for a second, caught Minyard’s gaze. They stared until he seemed to have his fill and stormed away.

The quiet fell over him heavier than he thought possible. His thoughts swirled into one large, consuming mess, interrupting and screaming over each other until he couldn’t focus on anything but them. He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. He counted with his breaths, switching between English and French, staying as far as he could from Japanese. It calmed him enough that he felt himself breathing again, when the door swung open, finally with some restraint. Jean opened his eyes and immediately closed them when he saw Neil walking into the room.

His face was the picture of relief and joy and in that moment, Jean hated him.

When he opened his eyes again, Neil had sat at the edge of the bed and sobered up. There was a flash of something in his eyes that threw Jean’s stomach into knots.

“Riko didn’t commit suicide,” Jean said quietly. Neil shook his head. Without prompting, Neil went into details of Riko’s death, including things other people would refuse to hear. Jean ate it up, asking questions he knew no one else would answer. But he knew Neil, knew that they’d both seen more than their fair share of horrors and Riko’s death wasn’t counted among any of them. He laid there and listened, the hints of a smile curling up the corners of his mouth. Every detail stuck in his brain, compartmentalized into its own space. After he was done, Josten left with a curt goodbye, a smile on his lips, too.

Jean closed his eyes, his chest feeling light for the first time in hours. He replayed Riko’s death over and over in his mind until he eventually drifted off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> one chapter delay in jean heading to LA but we'll be there soon!  
> i just finished midterms so updates should become more regular (maybe)  
> as always, comments and kudos add years to my life span and brighten my day  
> send me requests, headcanons, random thoughts over on tumblr


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